I seem to be obsessed
With loving people
Who don't love me back

Sweet little child
Your laying on a cloud
It rains endlessly

You can't come off it
Sinking through it
You pray

Their darkness thunders
Turns your heart to blunders
Am I the bad one?

You fall asleep
Falling as you weep
You're in a puddle

Cold and broken
Always misspoken
Is this better ?

Never been perfect
But you always work it
Until they throw dirt

And you lie in your puddle
Seeing your struggle
You feel disgraceful

Always so sorry
Wishing my puddle
To be an endless ocean

.
Through a forest glade
and down a narrow path
there stands a sacred tree
with its heart torn in half.

Bramble clings to its trunk
ivy covers over its bark,
reaching up for the light
fighting against the dark.

Forgotten by the woods,
ignored in a crowded place,
for it yearns for attention,
just a little tender grace.


© Pagan Paul (27/06/19)